Princes and Frogs
by samuraigurl1213
Summary: What would you do if you found out your sister’s best friend and incidentally your crush had to rule a country? See it through the eyes of Richard Grayson... and Kori Anders, the princess herself. [Em]
1. Freaky Friday

_Hey my faithful fans. This is just to show you I'm not dead. It'll be a bit before I get Chapter Two up, perhaps a month, but I'm not dead. And I wanted to give you guys something juicy and long to read. Also check out "Who is Santa?". But this is my long, 40,000 word fic, so start reading! I'll be in touch!_

Chapter One: Freaky Friday

_2813_

I don't really know where to begin.

That much is true.

I'm not even sure when it all began.

That much is undeniably true.

It's not even my story to tell, in all technicalities.

That much is irrefutability true.

In fact, I don't even really know the full story.

That much is true. Beyond true.

So, knowing all I don't know, I really shouldn't be telling this story.

That much is unquestionably true.

But I'm telling it anyways.

That much is definitely true.

And I'm beginning it all with where my part in this twisted tale began.

That much is un-doubtfully true.

I'm beginning it on an average Friday.

That much couldn't be further from the truth.

---

6: 45 AM

I groan, and awaken to the world thanks to the most annoying alarm clock on the planet. Don't believe me? Well, trust me, I have never in my life heard a more high pitched and annoying sound that the one this alarm clock emits every morning. It sounds something like… well, think about how a cat sounds when you're squeezing it to death and then think what if that cat had a high pitched annoying voice, and it would be this alarm clock. Hopefully, no younger sister is waiting for me to wake up so she can verbally assault me first thing in the morning. Sadly, this is not an unusual occurrence.

And even more sadly, one that I have not grown use to, even after four years of living with said sister.

However I'm in luck, and Rachel's glare is not the sight I wake up to. And though she is a rather pretty girl, her glare is slightly scary and disturbing, and most definitely _not _the sight I want to wake up to first thing in the morning..

Instead, I wake to the sight of a very messy room. Which, truthfully, isn't a hell of a lot better- but it's a step up. Maybe.

6: 46 AM

I hop out of bed, and quickly look around to make sure Rachel isn't hiding somewhere. She gets a kick out of giving me a coronary first thing in the morning by popping out of weird places that you wouldn't even think she could fit in. She's a ghost in training.

Yes, imagine my surprise when I found my new sister (our divorced parents got married two years ago) was the spawn of Satan.

Not what I was excepting at all.

Quickly checking in a few or Rachel's favorite hiding spots, I then proceed to army crawl to my bathroom. Oh sure, you might laugh at me and mock me and tease me- as Kori does whenever she sleeps over. But _your _sister isn't the spawn of Satan _or _a ghost in training, remember?

Plus, I know even though people, like Kori for instance, might mock you on the surface, on the inside they're impressed that you army crawl to your bathroom every morning.

I know this for a fact since I heard her ask my sister (in a rather incredulous tone), "Does your brother army crawl to his bathroom every morning- or is it just because I'm here?"

Rachel shook her head (at least, since I was listening through a wall, I can only guess), and replied, "Oh no he does that _every _goddamn morning."

"Oh…" Kori blinked (I'm sure of it- even though I didn't see it), "Well… that's…"

"Weird?" Rachel says in a bored tone.

Kori replies slightly uncertainly, "I was going to say kind of cool."

"I was going to say majorly fucked up in the head, but I tuned it down for you."

Kori replies with a rare dose of sarcasm (and probably an eye roll), "Thanks."

See, point proven. _Kori thinks I'm cool for doing it._

And _that's _enough to keep me doing it- until I' m seventy. Or at least, until Rachel doesn't live with me, because then, you know, there's no excuse for doing it.

6: 47 AM

I take a shower every morning. I'm usually successful in losing Rachel by this path, so I always sneak in to the bathroom before she can ambush me. And I mean ambush in a battle of wits.

Who wants a battle of wits at a quarter to seven in the morning? Goddamnit, I don't want to have to use my brain. Is that too much to ask?

Plus, when Kori's over, it's always a lot of fun to see her expression as I walk out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around my waist. My physique is one many are impressed with, if I do say so myself, and her expression, and mix of dumbfound-ness and amazement.

_That _keeps me entertained for _weeks. _At least.

6:50 AM

Then I quickly run back to my room and get dressed- as it is another few precious Rachel- free moments.

Now, I'm sure it sounds as if I hate my sister (step-sister actually, or more precisely spawn of Satan/ ghost in training pretending to me my step-sister) but I don't. I love Rachel. I just don't love confrontation first thing in the morning with her. Usually because (even thought it hurts my male pride) she wins. Which really isn't great for one's self esteem. Especially a high schooler.

After all, high school? The ultimate place where all of one's individuality and confidence is slowly drained from one's being. I do _not _need more of my precious self confidence drained at home.

But if it was a time when I was more awake, I would totally kick her ass.

… or at least not lose quite as much.

6: 52 AM

I rush downstairs and grab a bowl of cereal.

As I begin stuffing my face with cereal I'm waiting for the outrage cry (or deadpan) of, "That's gluttony."

But I don't hear it.

So far, no Rachel.

That's plain weird. But hey, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

And then suddenly, she appears. Like that. Case and point; ghost in training.

"So… you know Kori's coming over tonight, right?" she says suddenly. I swear, her voice brings chills up my spine. And not in the hormone way, in the scary way- which sounds really bad, but it's too early to think at all.

She was trying to catch me off guard and give me a heart attack so I would die, I just know it.

That, and the fact that paranoia runs in the family, but let's not dwell on that.

I turn to my sister and give her a calculating look, "OK… why?"

Rachel shrugs, trying oh so hard to make it seem like she doesn't care, "So you can invite Gar over. I mean, I doubt he comes over at the drop of a hat."

Ha! She just doesn't want to think he's the social pariah I know he is. She wants to think he's better than he really is- to justify her liking him.

You can't choose love Rachel! Not my fault you fell in love with a total shmuck (to put it nicely- he is my best friend after all)!

I slowly pour myself another bowl of cereal, reveling in having the upper hand, "And why do you care if Gar comes over?"

She shrugs, "I don't. It's just you don't like it when only Kori's over. I guess you think it'll ignite your hormones or something to go it alone with two girls."

I slowly pour myself another bowl of cereal avoiding eye confrontation with Rachel. She's right. But I can't let her win.

"Right Rachel, I'm sure that's why you want Gar to come over…because you don't want my hormones to act up. Because then… what? You can't embarrass me? I know how much it pains you to do that," I say in a monotone, adding a roll of my eyes. Rachel just loves it when I do that. She especially loves my rambling comments in the mornings.

Goddamnit, I can't help the fact that I'm not a morning person. But Rachel insists on having these morning battles. Never afternoon battles. Always morning wars.

Rachel turns red in the face, and throws her hands up in the air. Muttering something sounding suspiciously like "hopeless" she grabs a granola bar and heads back up to her room.

That's right, that girl grabs a _granola bar _for breakfast. And that's it. And she then claims she's full.

It's not even like she's fat, or ever could be.

And yet, she "forgets to eat" sometimes- usually when reading. Who can _forget _to eat? It's something you _need _to do to _live. _Come on, if that doesn't prove she's Satan's spawn/ ghost in training, I don't know what does.

As she stomping up the steps (in high heels no less), I polish off my last bowl of cereal.

Grabbing my book bag off the table, I rush out the door so that I will get a chance to talk to Kori before Rachel shows up. Because, Rachel always gets mad when I talk to Kori likes she's actually my friend too.

Revenge my friends, is sweet.

7:20 AM

I run outside, managing to have avoided all of Rachel's stealthy traps. Namely; her legs which seem to enjoy tripping me so very much. Not to mention kicking. Oh yeah, those legs love to leave bruises all over my own. And not in the kinky way either.

This is when I spot Kori- which is not too hard to do because she has the most gorgeous and sexy red hair… which makes for an easy spotting time.

"Hey, Kori!" I scream in the direction of the redhead.

Said redhead turns around and waves. Joyfully. And energetically. At 7:20 AM. Oh, god can my sister pick them or what?

And I then proceed to continue to strike up a conversation with sister's (hot) best friend until said sister gets her ass out here. In the cold. Which, doesn't seem so cold now that I've found Kori. What can I say? That girl radiates warmth.

Kori and I chat for little bit- perhaps with a little innocent flirting. She being innocent, and me, flirting. But I only flirt with Kori because it ticks Rachel off! I swear! It's not because I've harbored some deep feelings of love for her since the moment I laid eyes on her in kindergarten or anything.

Because that, for one, would be completely and totally weird and stalker-like of me. If she on the other hand, harbored these before mentioned feelings it would just be cute. Even if she happened to hold on to things like… a strand of my hair, or some trash I touched. Kori can make it cute. She can make the Battle of Gettysburg look cute, I swear to god that girl can make anything look cute.

Plus, what kind of guy realizes he loves some in kindergarten? A gay one, because truthfully if a guy said that, that would be gay. Or some weirdo guy who wouldn't date a girl until he was fifty (all while still living in his mother's apartment). And he would be called gay forever until he came out of the closet. If he however, hypothetically, said he harbored these feelings since maybe, I don't know, third grade, _that_ would be a different story. Because post the summer of second grade is when girls loose their cooties and you begin to have crushes. Those cute little boy crushes, you know? Which then fester and become infatuation in fifth grade, and plain old puppy love in eighth, and in tenth- the scary part- love. Stalker love specifically.

But of course? What kind of a guy would I be if, hypothetically speaking, I didn't speak up about such feelings?

A straight one, I'll tell you.

And maybe, just maybe a little bit of a coward.

But then again the words Richard Grayson and coward do not mix. They just don't, end of story. But that's all hypothetical so… it doesn't matter.

But that's all besides the point. The point was… Kori. My sweet Kori…

Where was I? Oh yeah, striking up a conversation.

Kori smiled at me (she has a really beautiful smile, it's all shiny and beautiful) and she said, "Hey Richard, where's Rachel?"

See, for all of my painstakingly obvious (and yet not too obvious flirting- to annoy Rachel of course, who can tell whether or not Kori's flirting no matter where she is) flirting, this is what I get in return. A hey- and then a 'where's Rachel'. See my torture?

I mean, my torture- if I was in love with her- which I am so not. A guy just likes to be appreciated for flirting, that's all.

Anyways…

"Heard you're sleeping over tonight," I reply- not wanting to answer her question. I mean who cares about Rachel? She annoying and the spawn of Satan/ a ghost in training as you should know very well.

Kori giggles (her giggles are better than her smiles, like bells or something- the way those princesses in books always giggle. Not that I've read any of those books… I… just… thought they might… in the… um…porn I read… except it wasn't porn it was… smut?... oh god, help me), "Yes, I suppose I am. Though, I personally believe Rachel only insists on having me sleepover because every time I do so- you invite Gar over."

"So it's Gar she likes?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I mean, what brother doesn't want to know about his sister's love life- to an extent. And I mean, who she likes so you can tease her about it- and not say the love of her life is "John Smith" (long story involving made up boyfriends). But you know, not to the point of what they actually do, because that is just plain gross.

Kori smiles mysteriously (which is so much hotter than her usual smile), "I cannot say."

I shrug, "It's not like I don't know, I'm not blind."

"Oh, but you must not tease Rachel! I'm just getting her courage up to ask him out!" Kori protests quickly forgetting to feign coolness. I don't feign coolness, I just am.

"Aha!" I smirk, happy to have caught her, "So she does like Gar!"

Kori looks fearful, but quickly shakes her head, "Or maybe I only did that to trick you."

It doesn't matter, she's a terrible liar. She knows I know.

"Please, please Richard, don't tell her I told you! I'll do anything for you!" Kori pleads suddenly changing gears.

See how innocent this girl is? She doesn't even realize when she's saying such perverse things. Poor, poor Kori. Or more accurately, poor, poor me who has to listen to the girl he flirts with (but does _not _love) say these innocent, perverted things. I mean, it would drive a guy crazy.

I just return her earlier mischievous smile, "Well now Kori, I can't say for sure…" I trail off.

"Oh Richard you-" But Kori's cut off by Rachel's arrival. Plastering a smile on her face, she greets my sister.

Oh Richard you what? Rock? Suck? Are my hero? Should go curl up and die? Should sweep me into your arms and take me back into your (parent's) apartment?

Thinking about the different things that Kori have been trying to say (all of which are extremely far-fetched, but nonetheless pleasing) I'm able to walk to school without the slightest companionship, and yet rather entertained. And, I don't even mind that Kori and Rachel are whispering things that sound suspiciously like they're talking about guys.

Yeah right in front of me. And do they even care; nooo. Even though Rachel thinks I like Kori, she's always asking her, "Do you think he's hot?" in front of me. What a kind (spawn of Satan/ ghost in training) sister I have.

Which pretty much shoots down my hopes of Kori talking about me to Rachel.

I mean, they're talking about Gar- my best friend- and how cute and masculine he is right in front of me. And some other stuff I'd really like to erase from my memory. But the juicy tidbits about me, myself or I come out to be zilch.

Which is pretty depressing. Am I not every bit as manly as Gar, if not more?

Except… that Kori's coming to sleepover tonight.

Which means Gar's coming over to hang out/ sleepover (because saying he's sleeping over sound plain gay and spending the night is even worse).

Which thus means we will spy on the girls and perhaps I _will _get lucky and hear some juicy tidbits about myself.

Except, I'd trade everything I heard last night for every single comment Rachel and Kori have made about Gar (in all his manliness) in a heartbeat.


	2. Ordinary Day

Chapter Two: Ordinary Day

_2368_

I've lead a privileged life.

I won't even bother to deny it.

I think the worse thing that's ever happened to me is that my Dad died. But quite honestly, it was when I was so little, like one month old, so even that wasn't that big of a tragedy. It's sad, but true.

It was more like a third cousin twice removed who happened to be your Aunt's ex-boyfriend and the father of your other Aunt's children (but not her husband) had died. It seemed so distant to me at the time, it didn't really effect me. At all.

And sure I'm dealing with unrequited love and all, but that's normal for any teen. It's not like it's _real _conflict. Just because he consumes my thoughts every moment and doesn't have any idea I love him isn't tragic. It's only tragic that I haven't told him how I feel. Because, with all of my happiness in life, we would probably ride off on a Unicorn and get married.

But of course, I like to think that those fifteen painless years (minus a few zits here and there) were because the biggest tragedy of my life deserved those fifteen painless years.

Now, okay, you might say, your life _cannot _be so _happy. _

It has though. It's not like I've been a slave or anything. It's all been… happy. I've been treated well. I haven't had any character building conflict. It's al been coasting downhill (minus a few speed bumps).

Still don't believe me? Well, let me show you an average day in the life of Kori.

The last average day I'd have in a long, long time.

6:00 AM

The sound of the radio wakes me. And I come into the world with beautiful (ok, so what if it's Avril Lavinge? I _like _Avril Lavinge. _I _think it's beautiful) music.

See, nothing tragic about that? Except maybe how her music has gone so downhill (According to Rachel, but to me, it's as good as ever- if not better).

6:01 AM

I stretch out as I throw the covers off me and step out of bed.

Of course, I first dance around to the beat of Avril Lavinge for a few minutes, and then proceed to pet Silkie, my adorable kitty. She likes to sleep by the window where she can watch the birdies fly by.

Giving Silkie a big kiss, I put her down and then put on my outfit (picked out last night with great pains; my great butt jeans and my favorite t-shirt with the Chesire cat on it- Richard got it for me).

Now, you might question my cleanliness, after all, I haven't showered this morning! However, I was never much for showers in the morning, and I've always opted to take mine the night before. They're much more relaxing that way.

6:07 AM

Hair brushed, outfit meticulously put together, I put on my face.

Just a little bit of blush and a brush of mascara and a dab of lip gloss and viola! I'm ready to face the world.

6:15 AM

I rush downstairs quickly, where Mom is putting some sunny-side eggs and bacon on a plate for me.

Yes, Mom spoils me. She even packs my lunch for me in the mornings _and _puts me name on the bag with little hearts. After all, I am her favorite daughter (if not her only one), I deserve to be spoiled a little.

6:45 AM

After all toast is finished, the eggs devoured, and the bacon vanished, I trek all the way back upstairs.

Here I spend the next ten minutes giving Silkie some TLC, and food. Silkie loves her food. And I love Silkie. She's my precious little kitty! And I make a point to _always _tell her so. She likes that. And then she continues to stare out at the birdies with an evil glint in her eye. I just give her another pat on the head and continue with my morning cycle.

6:55 AM

I brush my teeth (Rachel got me this awesome Batman and Robin toothbrush and I use it all the time), slip on some shoes, give myself one last look in the mirror and then head back down again.

Quickly grabbing my purple book bag and my lunch, I give my Mom a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door.

7:10 AM

I make my way all the way over to Rachel's house, nine blocks away. Of course, neither Rachel or her brother, Richard, will be out for another ten minutes at least.

But I like to head out early. Observe the streets. Watch people. See how the normal, everyday person braves the world. It's all rather fascinating. I could do this for hours. Just sit here, and watch people.

7:20 AM

Honestly, that whole observing the people thing, gets boring _real _fast. How many times can you watch a man eat an Egg McMuffin (though highly delicious not the first thing you want to see someone else doing in the morning. Though I suppose I should be happy he has enough money to buy an Egg McMuffin…) So I'm very relieved to hear the distinct manly, swoon-able yell of;

"Hey, Kori!"

Immediately, I turn around and greet Richard with a smile.

I always like it when Richard beats Rachel out the door. Because then _we_ talk.

And I know this might sound really weird, but I really like Richard. I _like _him like him. Now, this really sucks, not because it's a crush, because any crush sucks, since unrequited love normally follows, but because he's my best friend's older brother.

So do I get he chance to talk about my fantasy guy with my best friend; namely her brother? No. And a girl needs to talk with _someone_ (especially their best friend) about things like this. It's unhealthy to keep it all bottled up. It could lead to drastic actions one day.

Not that Rachel doesn't know. I mean, as my best friend and great observant, she's probably figured it out. But she's not going to be bringing it up any time soon, because of the fact that it could emotionally scar her for life. I doubt she wants to hear about all the wonderful qualities her brother possesses (some emotional, some mental, most physical).

So this is why I enjoy our few sacred moments together. I mean, Richard and I don't get a whole lot of moments that I can reflect on later in bed.

Okay, hearing about how pathetic (but not _tragic_) my love life is you might ask; Now why would anyone fall for their best friend's older brother?

For one thing, he's hot. Really hot. I mean, whenever I come over, he does _army crawls _to his _bathroom. _Yeah, weird. But… you know, it pays off. Because he's _fit. Really _fit. Like, Madonna fit, no fat on your body. Just muscles. And lots of muscles.

Yum.

And second, you can't choose who you fall for. It just happens. And it just so happens I've fallen for my best friend's older brother. Hard. Like, fallen from a skyscraper hard.

But on the upside, I can easily observe Richard in his most relaxed environment. And share a few "common" moments with him- like now- without him expecting anything. So, there's good and bad to my situation. But personally, I think the good outweighs the bad.

So Richard and I chat a little. Or, he chats, and I flirt. Very indiscreetly though; just simple hair twirling. _Seventeen_ says that that is one of the best ways to get a guy to notice you- indiscreetly. The other way was whistling, but that might seem odd in the course of a conversation.

But, I can't let him think I'm flirting with him, so I direct the conversation elsewhere, "Hey Richard, where's Rachel?"

"Heard you're sleeping over tonight," he replies. Okay… what in the world? Where did that come from?

But if he wants to talk about _me, _I'm not going to stop him. I love me. And I love me even more when Richard talks about me.

I force out a cute little giggle, good thing I'm a morning person, "Yes, I suppose I am. Though, I personally believe Rachel only insists on having me sleepover because every time I do so- you invite Gar over."

"So it's Gar she likes?" He says raising his eyebrow. Oh, I love it when he does that eyebrow thing.

It's kind of a running joke between us; who Rachel likes. Rachel's too good at being secretive, and it annoys Richard, so he's always making these guesses to who she likes. For a while it was his made up character "John Smith". Personally, I don't think Rachel's low enough to steal Pocahontas' man, but you know, whatever floats Richard's boat.

Anyways, I have to play it cool. I can't let Richard know Rachel's secret. So, I smile, hopefully in a secretive, sexy way, but it feels more fakey to me, "I cannot say."

He shrugs, acting oh so cool about it "It's not like I don't know, I'm not blind."

Oh my god, he knows. I mean, it took him long enough. Deep breaths Kori, deep breaths. Talk sense into him, "Oh, but you must not tease Rachel! I'm just getting her courage up to ask him out!"

"Aha!" he says with a smirk, oh my god, he's _so _hot, their must be some law against being this hot, "So she does like Gar!"

Deciding I will only make a fool of myself if I become mesmerized by his smirk, I turn away. And then it hits me; oh god, I _can't _let him know. Quickly, I try to cover my tracks, "Or maybe I only did that to trick you."

Okay… he's not going to believe _that. _

Time for Plan B. B for begging of course.

"Please, please Richard, don't tell her I told you! I'll do anything for you!" I plead. I'm _this _close to getting one of them to make a move. And though I like Richard and all, I _cannot _let him mess this up. I've been working for it for seven months now! It's all part of a grand scheme to get Richard.

See if Rachel's too occupied with Gar, she'll be happy. She'll know I need to find someone else to occupy my time since Gar's occupying all of hers and she'll be more agreeable because she's happy. And since she kind of knows about my crush on Richard, she won't be so mad if we get together.

I just have to work on how we'd get together… but you know, I'll figure it out soon enough. I'm not too worried.

Because, Gar, his best friend will be gone. And who will he have to hang out with? We'll be forced together. And with slight flirting over time, we can get together.

He gives me a smirk (let me just say; yum), "Well now Kori, I can't say for sure…" Great, he's teasing me. Or waiting, is that mocking-teasing or is that flirting-teasing?

I hold back a sigh at all this… thinking…, "Oh Richard you-" my sentence is however interrupted by the arrival of my best friend.

Immediately I, like any other girl would do in my place, drop Richard like a hot potato. After all, I can't let him think I like him _that _much.

Instead, I smile warmly at Rachel, "Hey Rach."

Rachel glares at me, "Don't call me that."

I simply roll my eyes, "You finally ready to go?"

Now it's Rachel's turn to roll her eyes, "You know Kori, not everyone can throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and maybe a little lip gloss and look half way decent in the morning. Some of us actually _have _to work on our look."

"Especially when you want to impress someone," I reply with a mocking smile as the three of us begin or seven block walk to school.

Rachel blushes prettily, "Shut up," she mutters turning away. She hates to let people see her blush. I don't know why, she looks quite pretty when she blushes- unlike me, the unlucky red head. Which of course means my dark red blush, when I blush, is full blown, and I look like I've had a horrible sunburn. And worst of all, it clashes horribly with my already red hair.

"Oh, you _know _you think he's cute," I reply, careful not to mention who _he _is, but teasing nonetheless, "With his masculine jaw, strong physique, happy go lucky attitude, and those kissable lips."

"You know Kori, if you think that well of _him_," she replies, emphasizing 'him', "Then maybe _you _should date him."

I let out a lady-like snort. If I even _looked _at Gar that way, Rachel would forget all boundaries and rip me to shreds. Quite literally. Even if I am her best friend. Nothing comes between Rachel and her man. Even if, in all technicality, she hasn't made a move and Gar's single.

And Gar wonders why no one will date him.

Ha!

They're afraid of Rachel terrorizing them! Guys can be so ignorant sometimes. Okay, most of the time. Okay, _all _of the time. But that's just part of their charm.

Not like I would ever look at Gar like that. He's like a little brother, or, a pet monkey to me. Cute, but totally undateable.

I have my sights set on the man walking behind us. Oh, how it makes my heart flutter just thinking of his name.

_Richard._

Insert heart fluttering right about now.

But we never talk about Richard and all his… manly attributes. Especially when he's only two steps behind us. Instead, Rachel and I spend the entire walk to school talking about Gar. In hush tones of course, so Richard can't hear us talking about his best friend.

And I'll cherish our conversation forever because it's one of the last times we'd innocently and unknowingly talk about something so mundane and seemingly important. In simplest terms; it was one of the last normal conversations we'd have in years.


	3. Sleepover

Chapter Three: Sleepover

_1890_

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Bring! Bring!

The bell rang. Oh yes, dreams _do _come true.

Even if the bell is the most annoying bell you've ever heard in the history of bells. I'm talking fingernails scraping across a chalkboard annoying.

But, regardless, kids gleefully streamed out from the school (ignoring the most annoying bell in the history of bells), screaming, laughing, running, stampeding. It was all rather relaxing in a chaotic sort of way. Or you know, as relaxing as this sort of thing can be.

But hey, it's Friday, so who the hell gives a crap?

And in the midst of all the shouts and laughter I hear a very distinct (as well as high-pitched and annoying) voice that could only belong to one person in the world. Garfield Logan, my "bestest friend on the whole wide planet"- in the words of Garfield himself during one rather embarrassing sugar high episode. An episode that shall not be mentioned at all. In fact, you never even heard about an embarrassing sugar high episode. You are now staring blankly at the computer screen…

But that's all beside the point.

"Hey Richie!" Gar (no one, _no one, _ever calls him Garfield- not even his Mom, no matter _how _angry she gets, or his teachers, or anyone) cried out, running to catch up with me.

I stand in place in order to allow Gar the proper time to run to catch up.

Once he (finally) does so (it took him five minutes, it would have only taken me two _and _he's panting now), we begin to walk together. Rather slowly so Gar can gain his breath. Pathetic.

"So…" he asks, trying to casually bring up the topic, and failing, "Is Kori sleeping over?"

"Yeah," I said quirking an eyebrow, "Isn't she always?" Just not always for the reasons _I _would like her to.

Gar doesn't answer my question. He often decides amongst himself that my questions aren't worth answering. Most of them aren't. Apparently, he believes I really like rhetorical questions.

"So… Vic's sleeping over," Gar trails off, and I know exactly what he's asking.

But that doesn't mean I'm not going to let him squirm. He knows that he's the one sleeping over. It's been that way… well, since the very first time Kori slept over, and I'm not one to break to tradition… but Gar does squirm so _very _well.

Oh, who's Vic? Vic, or Victor Stone, quarter-back and all around best older brother to everyone (yeah, he's beloved by all) is another one of my close friends. Or, should I say our best friends. It's always been me, Gar and Vic. The three of us have been best buds since Pre-K.

Unfortunately, he, unlike Gar, does not have a completely wide open social calendar and rarely has time to spend hanging out at my house nowadays. No matter how cool my house may be.

But of course, if Gar knew that, he'd probably start crying- or the manly equivalent, moping.

And I mean, it's not like Vic completely ditched us- he's not a complete jerk. He still sits with us at lunch, and he hangs out with us sometimes. It's just, he doesn't hang out every single day and sleepover every single weekend, unlike Gar, who has no life.

I sigh deeply, it's kind of exhausting to have a friend with no social life _or _self-esteem, "Gar, you're invited."

He throws me a huge grin, "I just wanted to make it official."

I quirk my eyebrow at him again (it annoys him since Gar can't do it), "Right." But of course, like any teenager, I drag out the 'i' in the word. Sarcasm is a very close friend of mine.

"So… do you want to spy on R- Kori?" Gar says, his smile never faltering, although his words do.

I scowl in reply, "First off, we do not spy, we simply… eavesdrop," Okay, that was such a bad cover story if the girls caught us, "Or… um… are gathering information," That was worse, "Or better yet, happened to drop a pen right by their doorway and didn't hear anything. That's our story got it? Second off, we do not spy on Kori. And third, you really shouldn't let me know you're planning on spying on my sister," I gave Garfield a mock glare for that.

"If we spied on Kori, you'd kill me. If you do it, it's another story," Gar frowns ignoring the rest of my statement- for a moment, "And I do _not _spy on Rachel. I wasn't even going to say that!"

"Ever heard of a Freudian slip of the tongue?" I ask him with a smirk. Garfield only glares in response.

Somehow, before long Gar and I get bored. Which really isn't too surprising since Gar has virtually no attention span. Which of course means we take up our favorite hobby; dropping a pen right by Kori and Rachel's doorway and not hearing anything, or in other words, we spy on Rachel and (more specifically in my case) Kori. Or, even more precisely, we use a stethoscope to listen through walls to hear Kori and Rachel's precious girl talk.

I love their girl talk. It's all they do. And they go on for hours about the most random things. Like, a guy's age. Rachel says she wants the guy to be within her age by a year, so that they have similar interests and things. Someone much older or much younger just would miss out on the entire part of you.

Well, to hell with Rachel. _Kori _on the other hand says there can be an age difference. Like, five years (otherwise you're a sugar daddy or a slut). Because age doesn't represent your soul, and the soul is what you fall in love with.

Personally, I agree with Kori, which might have something to do with her being two and three eighths years younger than me…

And who might get to go first? After all, they can hear the juicer things, and, you know, it's just always better to go first. At least, that's me and Gar's philosophy.

I argue that I should go first since it is _my _apartment.

Gar, in response, argues that it was _his_ idea to use the stethoscope- enabling us to hear.

To which I hotly reply that it's _my _stethoscope we're using.

After a fierce battle of wits, Gar and I reach the conclusion that we'll use rock paper scissors to decide the winner.

First battle Gar goes with the strong and oh so powerful rock, to which I counter with the sharp and deadly paper. In the second round, Gar decides to once again go with his faithful rock, to which I counter with my dangerous and lethal paper.

Gar _always _chooses rock. It's not really that hard to beat him. That's the only reason I agreed to such a juvenile game.

Rachel herself is rather keen to paper.

I wonder if that's going to set a tone to the relationship…

And Kori just randomly selects either rock, paper, or scissors. There's always some pattern that one's got to figure out, so she's always the challenge. She's not like anyone else.

Either way, I'm happily struggling to listen to the girl's conversation which goes something like this;

"Oh Rachel!" Kori says in between spouts of giggles, and I can't help but feel left out.

Rachel herself is giggling (it's twelve. Those two get absolutely giddy with hyper-ness, as is their custom. They have these serious conversations with ten times the laughter, it's so weird and… amusing.), "It's true!" She protests through her chuckles.

"He is not _that…" _Kori then breaks off and proceeds to laugh again. Okay… if they keep relating back to the joke I missed, I'm going to punch something, in all likelihood, Gar.

"All I'm saying is that guy's as tall as I am, and as wide as _you _are in height. And he still insists on walking around in the tightest shirts known to man along with this attitude that he's all that!" Rachel proclaims loudly. Which honestly, isn't her funniest quip- but these girls are loaded up on sugar. Everything seems funny to them.

Kori argued half heartedly, "Oh please don't-"

"You're only saying that because he hit on you," Rachel replied with a bark of laughter. Yes! Jackpot! I know who I can vent my anger on next! I mean… well, I'm not going to try to justify that.

"He did not hit on me! He simply said he loved my shoes and wanted to know where I got them! If anything, it proves that he was staring at Roy!" I cringe, Roy, another good friend of mine, often gets hit on by the few gay guys in our class. A fate I often also suffer on numerous occasions.

"Kori, not _only _did he smack your ass but he whispered a pick up line in your ear! I hoped you scrubbed that thing at _least _twenty times when you got home."

"… I do not believe that justifies a reply."

"God, he acts like he's the King of our school."

"Oh speaking about royalty," Kori says, suddenly changing pace, "I have to leave earlier than I excepted tomorrow. Like ten. In the morning."

"That sucks. Why?" And it's asked without a single ounce of curiosity in her voice. Creepy.

Yes, why my dear, sweet Kori?

"Oh… my Grandmother is coming. I'm supposed to meet her in that hotel… the Princess Suites," Kori laughs at her own private joke.

Rachel's silent for a moment, "Wait… which one? The one that's normal or the one that-"

And suddenly, I'm yanked away from the wall from my supposed best friend that could not possibly have worse timing. I mean, if I headed back to the wall now, I'd have missed her answer, or at the very least, the question.

"Dude, you've been listening for a long- hey, what's wrong Richie you're looking a little pale. Or… you know… if you could get any paler than pure white…" Gar trails off, his smiling dissipating slightly as he goes on.

"Gar, I've got to go at ten in the morning," I say, kind of in a daze. I need to find out what the deal is. I can just tell it's important. I can just feel it. I know I've got to go.

I've got to know what's going on. I've just got to.

Rachel would say it's because for the last four Halloweens in a row I've dressed up as a detective. And she would say I need to fulfill some other element of my personality or something. Or so she's said on several occasions.

But really, I'm just the curious sort. There's no deeper meaning to it.

To which, Raven always says, "Curiosity killed the cat."

Which of course, I also reply with, "And satisfaction brought him back."

But back to planet earth.

Gar blinks, looking from the stethoscope to me to the wall in perplexity, "Um… I think I've missed something." Thanks Captain Obvious.

"So do I. But I've got to know something… about… well Kori. And I've got to go to the Princess Suites at ten to figure it out."

Garfield groaned, "Does that mean I've got to go home by then?"


	4. 4Ever

Chapter Four: 4Ever

_2173_

Ah, the end of the day. You can practically smell the excitement. The moments where a few seconds seem to stretch on for days, maybe years before you hit the moment of pure bliss and simplicity of no school.

Our teacher (as much as I love her and all, come on, we only have like, ten seconds, before school's over, she can't really be expecting us to pay attention about logarithms) continues to teach, completely unaware that her students' attention is adverted everywhere and anywhere but the chalkboard. I glance over to Rachel, whose staring at the clock above the teacher's desk with an unwavering stare.

Then, Rachel suddenly turns her head to me with a smirk on her face. "Now," she mouths.

And I bet you all know what happens one millisecond after she finishes mouthing it. Yeah, the bell rings. That's Rachel, she's got a knack for those kind of things. Some people might say it's almost spooky. But to me, it's more cool.

I giggle as the rest of the students pour out of the classroom. Instead, I choose to wait for Rachel, who is always the last person out of the classroom. She puts a lot of time and care into the organization of her binders.

Together, the two of us proceed to walk home, books in arms.

"I love how you do that thing you do," I say with a giggle.

Rachel raises her eyebrow (a trick she learned from Richard), "What thing I do?"

"You know, the mystical spooky stuff. Like where you can predict the future," I complete my announcement with the classic "spooky" sign of wiggling my fingers. And giggles. Lots of giggles.

Rachel sighs in an exasperated fashion, "Kori, how many times do I have to tell you this? I'm _not _predicting the future. All I do, is figure out what time we get let out, remember the amount of seconds, and look at the clock. Nothing spooky about it."

"Well… you know Rachel, you can make eating toast look spooky… Hey!" I say in-between giggles as Rachel smacks me. Only lightly, but still, it's the thought that counts.

Rachel smiles, and all previous battles are forgotten, "So what do you want to do when we get to my house?"

There are several things I would like to do. Most of them do not involve Rachel, in any way or form. In fact, they involve a certain brother and some romantic candles… lack of clothing is there too…

But you know, I doubt Rachel wants to hear about those kinds of plans. So, I decide to go with the usual, normal thing we do. I mean, its much safer.

"Um, what we always do. Nothing," I finish with a slightly nervous giggle, I really hope Rachel can't read minds. Rachel gives me a little glare, and for a second I'm worried she _did _read my mind, until we both break out into simultaneous giggles. It's just what we do.

In fact, by the time Rachel and I get to her apartment we're nearly out of breath. And it's not like we ran all the way. We walked at a snail's pace. Except… well, we laughed all the way home. Like jolly Santa Clauses.

Rachel and I burst through the apartment door and, not even dropping our bags (which are very heavy due to all of our books we are require to lug around daily). In fact, we don't even get a snack or even pause at the stupefied looks on Gar and Richard's faces. Instead, we continue to Rachel's bedroom. Laughing all the way. Like Santa or Jingle Bells. Very holiday-reffic.

We then proceed to begin to chat the rest of the night away. We like to do that, chat the night away, that is. And we're good at it. We've spent hours doing it. For years. In fact, it's all we do.

I think Richard gets rather annoyed when I happen to call everyday for two hours just to chat.

But sadly, both of us rarely remember our sleepover chats due to the fact, well, that, I don't know how else to describe this, we get high. Or you know, really hyper. Really, really hyper. Like I-just-ate-a-whole-sack-of-sugar hyper.

For example, once, Rachel and I went to bed at around one in the morning. Which you know, isn't that uncommon (now, we're like an old married couple, we got to bed at ten thirty- latest and wake up at nine). Then, (what she swears in ten minutes, but I know was really more like an hour) later, I am shaken awake by a crazy looking Rachel.

"Go get me some water," she orders, her manner rather business like, and not as psycho as her demand.

I stare at her, still half asleep, "What?" I murmur in pure confusion.

In a sicko- psycho calm manner she repeats her order, "I said, go get me some water."

Dismissing this as a joke, I roll over, and ignore her. Instead, I return to more pressing matters; trying to fall asleep, again. Which isn't as easy as one would think it would be.

But before I even blink an eyelash, she's back on me, shaking me awake. This time, she's more hysterical. And more loud. "I said get me some water! Go get me some water Kori!"

I stare at my friend, pondering whether it would benefit _me _more to get her water, or not to, or simply to run away to Richard's room. Oh, that would be nice… I shake my head, must not think about that until safe from crazy Rachel. I'll store _that _thought away for later.

Finally (or you know, thirty seconds later), my full bladder makes the decision. It decides to get Rachel some water.

Sighing, I agree to the crazy awaiting Rachel's weird demands, "Fine, I'll go get you some-"

Before I've even fully uttered my sentence, Rachel races out the door and gets herself a cup of water.

Yeah, and that's only _one _anecdote from a sleepover. I have ten years worth of these babies. Unfortunately, Rachel also has ten years worth of those babies stored up.

Sadly (or not so sadly) tonight was no exception to the hyperness. Oh, no, in fact, it seemed to only be greater.

We talked about Gar, joked, talked about Gar, discussed imaginary boyfriends, listed qualities of the perfect boyfriend, put on makeup, talked about Gar, talked about a possible boyfriend for myself (attributes only, all very similar to Richard's mind you), talked about Gar, and well… joked. But for us, joking and babbling go very much hand in hand.

That is where you will find us now.

"You know Kori, if you're so picky about men, you should date one of your many followers," Rachel said, though her words stung slightly, her tone held more amusement than annoyance, "I mean, _they'd _treat you great. You'd be up on a pedestal."

I laugh off the comment, Rachel's always exaggerating things in the sake of one of her 'clever' comments, "What followers? Is there some Kori cult I don't know about?"

"Oh no, you know about it. They asked you to be their Queen. Remember, those two ninth grade Spanish boys? Or who could forget that pudgy kid in an overcoat. Personally, I think an overcoat is the first sign of a death list, or at least a possible shoot out. Which means that kid is a danger to _my _safety. I wouldn't be all too surprised if he came to school with an AK47 on Monday. If you ask me, he should be _removed _from our school," Rachel states, her comments far more menacing then she. This is partly due to the fact that one side of her head is in a pigtail, and the other is down, and she's laying on a pink, fluffy bedspread (Gar got it for her for her birthday, and as such she treasures it and sleeps in it as often as she can, even though it was supposedly a joke).

What can I say to such a comment? I have to reprimand her, slightly, but only slightly, "Oh Rachel!"

Rachel giggles a little bit, but she defends herself in an eloquent and clever fashion, as she normally does, "It's true!"

I don't know why, but her comment seems _so _funny right now. I think it might have to do with that carton of ice-cream (mint chocolate chip my absolute fav) I consumed, and I attempt to defend the poor boy, "He is not _that…" _

"All I'm saying is that guy's as tall as I am, and as wide as _you _are in height. And he still insists on walking around in the tightest shirts known to man along with this attitude that he's all that!" Rachel shouts, and I'm sure that the entire neighborhood heard Rachel's comment. But you know, they're used to it. I've slept over every weekend since second grade. It's nothing uncommon in the dead of night.

But you know, her comments do have _some _truth to them, and I can't manage to muster much will to defend the pudgy overcoat wearing boy, "Oh please don't-"

"You're only saying that because he hit on you," Rachel replies, and somehow, she thinks that fact was hilarious. Well, it was if you were there, but that doesn't mean I appreciate her laughing at it! It was rather embarrassing. And something I would like to forget and _not be laughed at for. _Since the whole incident _was not my fault. _And as my best friend, Rachel should know this.

"He did not hit on me! He simply said he loved my shoes and wanted to know where I got them! If anything, it proves that he was staring at Roy!" Though the comment makes no sense in context, our school is very diverse. Which means we have a, well, a high homosexuality percent. Which isn't a bad thing. It just makes it hard for a lot of the pretty/ handsome straight boys. Like Roy, or Richard. But it's always hilarious to see one of the straight guys hit on by the, er, not straight ones. Rachel loves to joke about people we know being gay (even if they aren't), I don't know why, but she does. So I'm hoping to draw her attention to that, and away from the hitting on memory I am so desperately trying to suppress.

"Kori, not _only _did he smack your ass but he whispered a pick up line in your ear!" Hey, if anyone knows about this, I do, and I was _about _to file for sexual harassment, "I hoped you scrubbed that thing at _least _twenty times when you got home," Ugh, like she _has _to remind me about the whole incident. And only twenty? Come on Rachel, I scrubbed it at _least _a hundred times that fateful day.

"… I do not believe that justifies a reply." Come on, what kind of line is, 'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?' So common.

I know there are _more _creative ones out there. Just yesterday I heard Wally (a close friend of mine, his locker is right next to mine, so I overhear many things he says) go up to Jen (his girlfriend, as well as my lab partner and good friend) and share a rather creative pick up line he created himself. During the pointless subject of English- or so he claimed.

"I have a nightlight," he told Jen, with complete and utter confidence that is unexpected from someone who admits they still do something that is so traditionally… immature.

Jen stared at him, slightly confused, "O… kay? So, why are you telling me? I mean, Wally, I know you're not a-"

He continued as if she hadn't spoken, "Not because I'm afraid of the dark. Because the dark is afraid of me."

Jen had simply shook her head, but I laughed.

He then gave her a wink and a large grin, "Came up with it all by myself."

"Good for you," Jen replied in a monotone, "Maybe now you'll learn how to tie your shoes by yourself," But I could tell she was amused. And Wally knew it too. And Jen was impressed. But you know, Wally still pouted at her little comeback. But, that's normal for them.

"Well Jen," he replied with his standard large grin (one of his many attributes that caused Jen to fall in love with him), "Then you wouldn't get the chance to tie my shoes, and I wouldn't what to deprive you of that."

Jen replied by shaking her head, though still smiling, and lightly whacking Wally over the head with her notebook. But there was no anger behind it. And the whole move felt rather lack-luster.

See, see how creative Wally was?

Case in point, there _are _creative pick-up lines out there.

Meanwhile, Rachel was continuing with her rant about pudgy overcoat wearing boy, "God, he acts like he's the King of our school."

Oh yeah, royalty that reminds me… "Oh speaking about royalty," I tell her, before I forget again (I seem to forget everything within five minutes), "I have to leave earlier than I excepted tomorrow. Like ten. In the morning."

"That sucks. Why?" Rachel says in a monotone, completely unfazed by my sudden announcement. She knows me too well, and as such, expects last minute announcements.

I shrug, like it's no big deal, even though I know it's a huge deal, "Oh… my Grandmother is coming. I'm supposed to meet her in that hotel… the Princess Suites," I can't help but let out a giggle at the irony.

Rachel's silent for a moment, slowly absorbing this information, "Wait… which one? The one that's normal or the one that the Queen?"

I sigh, deeply, see how bluntly Rachel puts things? Could make a cartoon character face reality, "The Queen. Hence the Princess Suites, it's totally going to suck."

"But she never comes here, you always visit her… it must be something different… something big…" Rachel trails off as she muses, bestowing some worry into me.

I can't help but feel my stomach twisting, because I know Rachel's right. But I don't want to think about that. In fact, I don't want to think about anything at all.

I just want to enjoy one of the last normal sleepovers I'll have with my best friend in a long, long time. And I'm going to milk it for all its worth, and I'm not fear what may come of tomorrow, and simply live today like it's my last. Which you know, it could very well be, knowing my Grandmother, but that's besides the point.


	5. Casino Royale

Chapter Five: Casino Royale

_1953_

Yes, following a girl is not necessarily the best way to gain her trust, in order for her to fall madly in love with you.

But that's only if she catches you. If she doesn't… well then…

I don't think that's ever happened within the course of history.

Damn.

But my inevitable doom is besides the point. I mean, I _could _defy the odds. It's possible. Kind of. Slightly. Not really. … Nevermind.

I don't give a damn about the risks and repercussions, I'm following Kori Anders to the… hotel. Whatever it was called. Someone's got to watch out for her. I mean, what if, some thug came along and mugged her. And then she knocked her head on the cement, and she got amnesia, and she was just lying there, waiting to be taken advantage of…

Wouldn't any girl rather have their sister's best friend who was following them save them? I think so.

But Rachel would disagree, and sock me in the face.

But she doesn't know where I'm going. She's still asleep.

And so is Gar.

Even though I told him I was waking up early to stalk/ follow/ protect Kori.

Which is going to be a rather interesting situation when they wake up.

But that's all besides the point.

Kori's got all of her stuff packed up (I sacrificed myself by watching her pack all of said items, even the unmentionables), and she's polishing off a bowl of cereal. My cereal to be specific, which for some reason makes me feel a little elated that she chose my cereal over all the other cereals we have in this house. I'm really playing into this stalker/ spy role rather well.

Great, I'm becoming a weirdo-psycho-stalker.

Oh, she's heading towards me!

No… wait… turn Kori, turn! She turns. Phew!

… And now she's leaving.

Quick! Grab a granola bar, Rachel's granola bar to be specific. Be silent, stick to the shadows, and stay at least ten steps behind.

I've seen enough spy movies to know how to stalk someone. I just hope I can put it into action.

Okay, I do not deny the fact that stalking people in movies looks like a piece of cake. I mean, all you do is walk behind them.

Truth is, it's a lot harder in real life.

Actually, it's not harder at all if you're _tall. _But when you're lacking height (like I am) then it's very difficult to manage to spot your person up ahead.

Despite being rather short (guys just get growth spurts late, it's a proven fact. And I'm only two and a half inches than Kori, and guys sprout up three inches overnight _all _the time) I still manage to make it to the Royal or Princess whatever hotel Kori's supposed to be at.

And there I spot Kori, who's all cleaned up. And she looks good cleaned up. Real good.

She's wearing this black skirt (I love her in black. Red-heads look so good in black. But unfortunately, Kori doesn't like much black because of her sunny disposition. I mean, she looks great in anything, even colors like vomit. It's just she looks… so much better in black… maybe I should buy her some black shirt for her birthday… hm… I did see that shirt at the mall…) And she's wearing this green shirt that brings out the green in her eyes (It's not as good as black, but green, especially this shade of green, is my second favorite thing on Kori. It really brings out the unusual color of green she possesses in her eyes. I just wish it was a little bit tighter…)

The point is, she looks good. Real good.

She's looking around in the lobby of the hotel, my guess is, looking for her Grandma.

Then she walks (and oh, can Kori walk. No one can walk like Kori can, the way she sways her hips and… oh god, I'm getting _too_ good at this stalker thing) over to the check in station.

Oh god, I pray, please don't let her go up into a hotel room. And while you're at it, please, please make sure she doesn't see me.

Ducking down, I sit in an uncomfortable wooden chair (the sacrifices I make for my stalker behaviors), I pull out a random book I grabbed off Rachel's bookshelf (that thing is twice as high as I am and three times as wide). I'm just glad it wasn't something like "Boy Meets Girl" (which would be rather gay of me to be reading) and instead something more… unisexual. Yes, Moby Dick is my book of the day.

Carefully watching Kori (something I'm so not used to doing in public- yes, that was sarcasm), I see the woman at the check in station point out into a little café with an obviously fake smile plastered on her face.

Kori nods, smiles (which is not fake at all- she can truly smile on command), and waves and the proceeds to head into the café. I must say, she's looking more grim with every step she takes towards the café.

Allowing a few more moments to pass (okay, thirty seconds- but that was ample time for her to find whoever she's meeting) I move to a chair closer to the café. Please note, that this chair is as equally uncomfortable as my last chair.

Peering in I see Kori take a seat across from a woman in her fifties- whom I guessing is her Grandma.

Thank god, from my place I can hear everything they're saying. This spying/ stalkering/ tailing/ private investigating isn't too hard at all! When you're lucky…

See? Even though I'm short I still make a spiffy spy.

"Hello Koriand'r," the woman greets Kori with a stoic expression. It's funny, the way she says her name, it's different somehow, like she's enunciating it differently. But I guess it's just the accent. Still… she sounds American… just different. It's really weird.

"Hello Grandmother," Kori replies, a little more stoically herself than normal, "And please, feel free to call me Koriand'r." Oh, but she's not suggesting, she's telling.

"Koriand'r," Grandmother (easier then calling her the woman, plus, she very well might be my Grandmother one day!... uh, that sounded girly, ignore that) replies, ignoring Kori's request, "I have some grave news to tell you."

Oh come on, what Grandma calls their grandchild by their _full _name, both first and last.

Kori doesn't seem to be bothered by her Grandmother's actions, "What? Is it-"

"Please, Koriand'r, do not go trying to guess the correct answer. That is hardly correct manners. You were taught better than that, even though you _were _only taught for a short while…" her Grandmother trails off, laced with hatred and a pitiful tone to inspire guilt. Funny, I didn't know Kori had Jewish grandparents.

"Please Grandmother, do not bring up how I was raised. I doubt that is why you have called me here today," Kori's voice has a harder edge, and she's talking differently. Her phrasing and enunciating… it's all weird. Really, really weird.

Something seems a little fishy.

Grandmother sighs (she's very lady-like), "As you know your father has long since… passed away."

"Yes, I am aware of this fact."

Kori's father's dead? I didn't know she _had _a father. I thought that… well… maybe she was a test tube baby. I mean, most children don't turn out _that _perfectly in an organic fashion.

"And you are aware that he is the only heir to the throne, correct, or has your mother taught you nothing at all?" Grandmother asks, her voice slightly colder as she speaks about Kori's mother.

Okay, two things wrong with this statement. First and foremost, Kori's mom is the nicest woman anyone will ever meet. Nobody manages to hate the woman. And second; heir to the throne? What throne?

Now I know why their relationship seems so strained. It's because this woman just escaped from the asylum.

"My mother has taught myself plenty," Kori's cold voice brings me back to reality. Burn! That's my girl.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Grandmother continues, "And you are aware that your brother and your sister planned to take over the throne. Well… there has been a slight change in those plans. You see… your brother… he has fled the country."

"What? But Ryand'r dreamed of being a King since he was a young one! Where is my brother now?" Kori demanded, narrowing her eyes at her Grandmother.

Oh god, what if this royalty stuff is real? Kori's talking like it is… well fact, and Kori is not insane. And she wouldn't play along with someone's insane ramblings. At least, she wouldn't be expressing so much hatred while playing alone with someone's insane ramblings. That's not Kori. Oh my sweet Kori, there's so much more to you than meets the eye.

Grandmother replied hotly, "Well it seemed your little brother isn't so little anymore. But only a few months ago, at the age of fifteen he claimed to be in love. Love! Like there is any such thing? And when I disapproved of his love, a little commoner, he ran away to X'hal knows where."

O la la! The royal scandal.

"You are telling me, Ryand'r, ran off without any protection and you have naught a clue where he is?" Kori's voice was level but I could hear the anger pulsating in it, "He's the prince of Tameran!" she punctuated this statement with a loud _thump _as her fist slammed into the table. Hard.

He's a fifteen year old boy, he'll be fine Kori. God, Kori is such a mother hen. A very hot mother hen, but a mother hen all the same.

What… Tameran? If Kori's brother is the prince of Tameran, and she's not crazy… that must mean… oh god…

That's it, I'm going to check these facts on my best friend; Google.

"If you called home from time to time you would know wouldn't you?" Grandmother snapped back.

Breathing heavily Kori replied, "So, why are you here? To tell me the news? _You _could not manage to order one of your servants to call me!"

Servants? Oh, this is getting juicy.

"No, that's not all."

Not all? Besides the girl of my dreams… er… the girl I occasionally flirt with is going insane? Except, she couldn't be going insane. No, no, no, this is Kori. And Kori believes in whatever she's talking about so that must mean…

"Oh X'hal."

She's a princess.

But, she's not in line for the throne! So I don't have to become a prince to marry her!

I mean, if I wanted to marry her…

"Your sister… she has been deemed not fit to rule. The dreadful girl has been ruining the image of any princess. She's been… been gallivanting around with all different men all the time. And it is no secret what she has been doing with them. And her alcohol consumption! The things she does in public! No, no she cannot be a princess any longer. And then, she goes off and marries her first cousin! No, no, she is a disgrace and we are dethroning her right this minute."

"So…" Kori replied slowly, "What does this mean for me?"

What does this mean for _me? _Will _I _have to become a prince just to talk to Kori? Will my head be cut off if I flirt with her? Oh god, my life has suddenly become a lot more complicated.

But maybe I misunderstood… maybe Kori's not…

"My dear sweet Koriand'r this means that you're going to be the next princess of Tameran!"

Damn.


	6. Hit the Floor

Chapter Six: Hit the Floor

_2773_

I groaned loudly as I stretched my arms as far as they could reach and clicked off the alarm. On Rachel's nightstand, on the wall, next to her bed, while I'm on the floor next to her bed. Stretch I did, in fact, I think my right arm is slightly longer than my left now. Is this how Mr. Fantastic feels all the time?

However, my obsession with superheroes has nothing to do with the situation at hand.

And yes, believe it or not, Rachel is _that _much of a heavy sleeper that the loud beeps of alarms don't wake her. She doesn't even flinch. She just keeps sleeping, rubbing it in my face that I can't do the same.

I mean, it's _Saturday. _And I am all for getting up early, but this is ridiculous. I mean, it's not even sane. It's _Saturday._

So instead of grumbling, moaning, and groaning at the unfairness of life, I decide to take a more practical approach. This of course means I begin to gather my things, which have found itself it the oddest places. My lovely ensemble from yesterday (all of my ensembles are especially lovely when I sleepover Rachel's because you know, the Richard factor) are partially in a corner of Rachel's room, and the other half of my outfit is in the bathroom.

And I don't know how _that _happened, because I haven't even _gone _to thatbathroom in like, a month. Because, it is traditionally Richard's bathroom, and love has got to have some boundaries. Especially when it's a bathroom.

Regardless, I have to hunt for all of my items (every single last one- no joke) that I brought with me to Rachel's house. Even the more… _personal _items. It seems nothing is sacred in the house of Richard.

The hunting in itself takes up an hour, and, being as it was Saturday and I did not count on said hunting (nor it taking an hour) and I am left with approximately two seconds to chow down breakfast.

But still, a girl's got to eat, _and _breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I mean, I totally should- in the sake of health.

Stomping down the steps to the kitchen (it's not like anyone cares, I mean, Mr. Wayne and his wife are out, and, as we've already established Rachel is a heavy sleeper. Richard and Gar are only even _more _heavy sleepers. And this is a healthy way to vent my anger) I enter the kitchen with all intention of eating a quick breakfast. I head over to the designated 'breakfast cabinet' and pull it open, as I begin to mull over what I should eat. For a few moments, I consider grabbing one of Rachel's granola bars, after all, it would save time. But, not only would Rachel _not _appreciate the sentiment, but, do I really _want _to save time?

Instead, I opt for the box of cereal that Richard's always eating. I mean, if Richard eats it _every single morning,., _it can't be that bad. Right? The love of my life _has _to have decent taste in cereal.

---

OK, I doubt our compatibility will be that highly based on differing view points on cereal. Ugh, it tastes like pure sugar.

But I'm going to need all the sugar I can get if I'm going to face my Grandmother.

With a slight sigh, I stuff the last bit of nauseatingly sugar-ized cereal into my mouth and prepare to face my worst nightmare come true.

Yeah, my Grandmother isn't the kind of grandmother who bakes cookies and hands out money like nobody's business. No, she orders others to make her alcoholic drinks and hands out bad news and criticism like… well, she hands it out 24: 7, especially to her grandkids. All of which makes my dear Grandmother not exactly my favorite person to see early Saturday morning. Or really, any time at all.

But still, a granddaughter has to make some sacrifices, even if it is for a not so nice Grandmother. Blood is thicker than water. Or you know, in my Grandmother's case; blood is thicker than vodka.

---

Now, I'm normally not very paranoid (that's Richard's job, the poor dear, as much as I love him, he might very well need some 'special pills' in the near future. Rachel has even hinted at the Waynes slipping pills into his orange juice), but I can't shake the feeling that someone's following me.

Of course this is probably due to the facts that one; what I'm doing- if anyone found out about it- would mean my life was over, two; paparazzi would _love _to get their grimy tentacles all over me, and they do love to stalk, three; though I love Richard and all, he is very paranoid, and paranoia is contagious.

I'm sure it's nothing. It's just that… well, what I'm doing is so… taboo (even if the word doesn't fit exactly, I love to use it so, oh well). If anyone found out about what I'm about to do…

Oh god, I don't even want to _think _about what would happen if they did. The endless traumatic, tragic and terrible possibilities.

Instead I'll concentrate on my… skirt. Yes, yes, my nice black skirt. Oh no, is that a wrinkle? Is it decently covering my knees? Does it compliment my figure? Will my Grandmother like it? Does my Grandmother even know what a pencil skirt is?

Okay, now honestly, how many questions can you ask about a skirt?- before you get bored or feel your IQ begin to drop a few points.

Um… what about my shirt? Is it the right green to compliment my eyes? Is it too clingy? Is it not clingy enough? Is it decent? Does it go with the skirt? Will my Grandmother approve?

Okay… turns out there is not a lot more questions that you can ask about a shirt that you haven't already asked about a skirt. And now I feel desperate. Like Grandmother without her liquor.

I sigh, but decide to attempt to face this with as much dignity as I can muster. And with that mustered dignity, and a tinge of self- confidence, I step into the lobby of the Princess Suites.

I can do this. I _can _do this. _I _can do this. I can do _this. I can do this!_

Okay, I so can't. But I can _so_ pretend.

With a last muttered prayer to whomever might care enough to listen, I make my way across the lobby and to the concierge's desk.

I can't turn back now.

Smiling at the woman through my anxiety I can't help but wonder if she knows my secret. And if she'll blab it to the world. Oh well, best be nice, maybe we can bribe her or something later. Or, I can get her on my side and convince her not to tell the world. I know it sounds crazy, but really, this entire situation is _crazy._

"Hello," I say jovially, as is my nature, "I am here to see my Grandmother, she's the-"

The concierge smiles back at me, but her smile is so forced, and so pained, I can't help but wonder just how well she knows my Grandmother, "Oh yes, I am quite aware of who _you _are. You're Grandmother is waiting down in the café, over there," she points to said direction, and forces her smile a little more as she finishes, "If your Grandmother has any more… well… _problems _with our services, tell her to directly come to me so we can remedy them. I'm Nickole- we've been acquainted several times during her stay."

Oh, this poor, poor woman. What can I say? I'm surprised her hair hasn't turned pink or some other odd color with the stress. That woman must be made of the strongest substance, _ever._

Instead of asking her how she manages to deal with my Grandmother, I muster up a smile, hopefully a more sincere one than her own, and wave as I head to the appointed café. And I'm hoping my wave says, "I'm so sorry for everything you've been put through. I'm her granddaughter, I understand. I'm put through it, too. A lot. Except I have the embarrassment of knowing I'm related to her." If only a wave could say so much.

As I walk to the café where I know my Grandmother is located I can't help but wonder if this is what Marie Antoinette felt like on her fateful walk to the guillotine.

Almost immediately upon entering the café, I see my Grandmother. I mean, it's not like she was hard to spot being the _only one in the café._

But even if there were a hundred people stuffed in this little café like tin of sardines, it wouldn't be too hard to pin one of them as my Grandmother. First off, my Grandmother has a tiara- dead give away, and she wears it always. And she's the only one with bright, natural, long, curly red hair that's in her fifties. She also enjoys wearing… bright purple. Fully. All the time. These little… quirks, combined, well, they make it very easy to find my Grandmother in large crowds.

Taking a seat across from my Grandmother I pray for the best as we begin the most unforgettable talk I've ever (or ever will, I'm pretty sure) have in my life.

---

"Hello Koriand'r," I cringe slightly as Grandmother uses my 'royal' name, fully on purpose to annoy me. Yeah, it seems that being a bitch really does come with the territory of being royal.

Stiffly, I reply, "Hello Grandmother," as this is expected of me, it is necessary, it is proper, "And please, feel free to call me Kori," Using the system taught to me when I was young, I properly and politely, make a 'suggestion' to my Grandmother in a way that is so socially acceptable she can not scold me for being wrong.

"Koriand'r," Grandmother replies, purposely choosing 'not to follow my suggestion', in a polite, yet rather rude, manner, "I have some grave news to tell you."

Oh God, what is it this time, Komi ruined another carpet by spilling all her gin on it. Puh-lease, "What? Is it-"

"Please, Koriand'r, do not go trying to guess the correct answer. That is hardly correct manners. You were taught better than that, even though you _were _only taught for a short while…" There she goes again, trying to politely show how much she disrespects the way my mother raised me. Upset that we weren't her puppets to be manipulated. Royalty's a bitch, let me tell you.

"Please Grandmother, do not bring up how I was raised. I doubt that is why you have called me here today," Ah, Kori, young grasshopper, it seems even though you weren't taught for so long, you can beat your Grandmother at her own game. Take that Grandmother!

Yes, I know it isn't my customary like behavior to enjoy beating my Grandmother to a pulp with my mad skills, but really. Where my Grandmother is concerned, _anyone _would feel the same way. Even Snow White.

Grandmother sighs, one of those sighs that seems to tell of unspoken burdens. You've got to be kidding me, the worst burden my Grandmother's ever had is having to call a servant _twice _to make her a drink, "As you know your father has long since… passed away."

I restrain the urge to roll my eyes, because that would be _outright _rude, and thus, totally unacceptable in the twisted society of which is royalty, "Yes, I am aware of this fact."

"And you are aware that he is the only heir to the throne, correct, or has your mother taught you nothing at all?" X'hal, what does she think I am? A little child, where all the information needs to be given to be in the question? A little child who doesn't know how much she hates my Mother for wanting to raise me, love me, do what's best for me?

"My mother has taught myself plenty," She could not have simply come all the way across the world to insult my mother! And if she thinks she can get away with it simply because she's royalty, she's got another thing coming. My Mother has treated me better than Grandmother could have ever dreamed to.

Grandmother dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand, like it has no weight, no substance. Sometimes outright rudeness is just plain _polite_, "And you are aware that your brother and your sister planned to take over the throne. Well… there has been a slight change in those plans. You see… your brother… he has fled the country."

Okay, this is definitely new. And no one thought to tell me beforehand? My brother, running amuck?! I can't help but feel flabbergasted, "What? But Ryand'r dreamed of being a King since he was a young one! Where is my brother now?"

Grandmother huffed, obviously still in shock herself, "Well it seemed your little brother isn't so little anymore. But only a few months ago, at the age of fifteen he claimed to be in love. Love! Like there is any such thing? And when I disapproved of his love, a little commoner, he ran away to X'hal knows where."

I simply cannot believe this. In a monotone that would make Rachel proud, I reply, "You are telling me, Ryand'r, ran off without any protection and you have naught a clue where he is?" when Grandmother doesn't look me in the eye, I know it's all true, "He's the prince of Tameran!"

"If you called home from time to time you would know wouldn't you?" Grandmother shot back, and this time I cannot help but roll me eyes. Yeah right, like this is all about it. I call 'home' (even though this is my home) plenty, and she knows it.

Two can play at this game, "So, why are you here? To tell me the news? _You _could not manage to order one of your servants to call me!"

Grandmother decides not even to bother trying to come up with some lie, instead, she decides to go firm on me, "No, that's not all."

I gasped slightly, I mean, come on, _more? _How much more of this… this… torture will I have to be put through? How many more games will I have to play? How much longer will I have to walk on eggshells all day long? "Oh X'hal."

Grandmother avoids eye contact, and immediately, I know this is a bad sign. A horrible sign. One that can only speak of unfortellable doom and torture for _me, _"Your sister… she has been deemed not fit to rule. The dreadful girl has been ruining the image of any princess. She's been… been gallivanting around with all different men all the time. And it is no secret what she has been doing with them. And her alcohol consumption! The things she does in public! No, no she cannot be a princess any longer. And then, she goes off and marries her first cousin! No, no, she is a disgrace and we are dethroning her right this minute."

"So…" I say, slowly, extending my words in a typical rude fashion, only slightly confused, "What does this mean for me?"

It cannot mean what I think it means. It simply cannot. It just can't. This would ruin everything. _Everything._

How am I supposed to get a guy (my guy, Richard John Grayson, to be specific) if I'm a princess. Like having a relationship with me wasn't _already _intimidating enough (hello, I _am _his little sister's best friend, now, if I ever get over that obstacle I have this whole princess thing working against me. So now I've got to add this to the mix, and to my plan. My beautiful plan, and it was almost complete).

My Grandmother looks happy, like Chesire happy, and why shouldn't she be? She's getting what she wanted all along. Maybe I'm being rash… maybe this doesn't mean what I think it means, maybe… but then my Grandmother announces the dreadful news with the happiness of a clown announcing that he just killed your dreams- and your only son (okay, I might have watched some horror movies at Rachel's that night before, but Downtrodden Dan was _obviously _out to smash little children's dreams, he just was.)

"My dear sweet Koriand'r this means that you're going to be the next princess of Tameran!"

Damn.


	7. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter Seven: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 

_2545_

So… Kori was next in line for the throne.

Oh my god.

What the hell was going to happen now?

Did that mean she was going to… or…

Wow.

Just wow.

Or en español; ¡Vaya!

I sat, in stunned silence, as Kori and her Grandmother hashed out some things. No things that I paid attention to, because, really, it just wasn't any of my business. Even a stalker had to draw the line somewhere.

Well, that and…

It was too much to soak in.

Finally I heard Kori say, in a rather exasperated tone, "So I will see you tomorrow Grandmother dear!"

And with that she stormed out of the café, throwing a royal tantrum.

I sat for another moment lost in thought.

And then another thought crossed by mind.

Kori.

Mad.

What would any normal girl do?

Head to her best friend's house.

Which meant, since her best friend was my little sister, she would be heading to my house.

Which meant, I needed to get home. And fast. Just to be there for the girl.

_Not _to take advantage of her in her emotional distress, as by my right as the crush of the very girl in emotional distress, I should have.

I tried to catch my breath as I ran back into my house, slamming the door behind me.

And guess who was there to await me?

If you guessed my Mommy with a plate full of hot chocolate chip cookies you are completely and utterly incorrect.

Nope, my Mommy happens to be a socialite and a psychiatrist at that- meaning she has little time to bake cookies.

And dear old Dad, hardly ever home. I think that's why their marriage has lasted as long…

Instead, the minute I got inside and tried to regain my breath my darling little sister was waiting at the door. With a scary, but happy look, plastered all over her face.

"Where were you?" she asked bluntly.

I shrugged, I shouldn't have to weigh her down with this information any sooner than possible. And, I shouldn't have to take the heat from Rachel for stalking her best friend.

"You should tell Gar not to sleep in only his boxers," she said, with a slight blush, "I mean, we all know you do it to try and impress Kori, but why the hell would he do it? It's only going to create awkward situations."

"Or, fulfill you're deepest fantasies," I quip in-between longing gasps of air.

Rachel makes a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat, but she's in a rather good mood (the whole seeing Gar in only his boxers tends to do that to the girl) and she doesn't make any hurtful comments back.

She decides not to reply to my comment (mostly since she knows it's true), "I'm heading out to the mall. Tell Kori to meet me there if she calls. Or, tell her I'll be back at one, and she can hang out till then. I don't want to keep you from _your _hormone induced deepest fantasies."

"I thank you deeply for that."

"Bye, Dick." Euphuism totally intended.

"See you."

Leaning against the door I try to gain my breath once again. After a few more minutes of deep breathing I shout, "Hey, Gar!"

Checking my watch, I see it's only eleven thirty. No way in hell Gar's up already, and Kori probably won't be around later until she's had a good cry or something. I know that sounds a little… cold, but, come on, a girl's got to have a good cry after news like _that._ And I really don't want to have to comfort a crying girl.

So, I settle for watching TV. Saturday morning cartoons are a nice break from the normal grueling cycle of life.

And so, I settle down to watch some bad TV. It always soothes ones nerves.

Unfortunately, not within ten minutes of cartoon watching, I hear the doorbell ringing. Slightly irritable for being interrupted from my uncharacteristic TV watching, I grumble as I get to the door.

It's probably just Rachel forgetting something stupid, or wanting to sneak another peek at a shirtless Gar. And she says she doesn't know why he does that! Oh come on, why else does a guy sleep shirtless at someone else's house unless he wants to impress a girl… or the guy's Mom.

But my Mom's never here. I don't think Gar's met my Mom more than two times.

In fact, I think I see his own mother more than mine.

But instead, I open the door and I get a little surprise.

It's Kori. Woo-hoo.

She's standing there sniffling, and she has big raccoon eyes on her face from crying. And I know it sounds sappy, but the girl made crying look good. _She made crying look good. _Is there anything this girl cannot do?

But now I had to act like an ignorant fool. An ignorant comforting fool at that, one who said the right things at the right time, but not enough to actually clue Kori in I knew.

It was a tricky role I was written to play.

"Kori…" I said softly trailing off.

Kori sniffled, attempting to hide her raccoon eyes by shifting through her purse, "Is Rachel here?"

"No, but she'll be back…" I'm cut off by Kori herself.

"Oh Richard!" Kori cried before launching herself at me.

Now, isn't this awkward?

I blink back surprise as I shut the door and wrap my arms around the girl I flirt with in what I hope is somewhat comforting, "Kori, it'll be fine. Whatever it is, I'm sure you can live up to it."

"That's just it!" she cried, "I cannot," she let out what seemed like a stifled scream (into my shirt, a fact I'm rather proud of), "I _can't _tell anyone! Not anyone at t'all! And then I have to… oh, Richard, it's going to be horrible!"

I rub her back soothingly (yet again, so I hope), "Kori, if there's _anyone _who can… deal with this thing, it's you. You can do it." Please, let me words sound encouraging and not like the complete and utter crap they sound like to my ears.

"Richard you don't understand! It's not in my hands. I can't choose, I can't deal, I just… and you see, I can't even tell you what it is! And so, you have to guess and hope what you're saying and doing is the right thing and _it isn't fair! _Not to you. Not to me. Not to my brother. Not to my sister. Not to the people of… the people. Not to Rachel. Not to my Mom. It's just, it's not fair," And then she stopped talking and just started crying.

"Kori, listen to me. Even if you can't tell me, I'm guessing you can tell Rachel, or else you wouldn't be here," Kori lets out an odd little noise (which is rather sexy, but we shall not dwell on that fact at the current moment), which I take to mean agreement, "And if anyone can help you it's Rachel. You and Rachel and your Mom, the three brightest gals I know. If you can't come up with some kind of solution, well then, there's no hope for any of us.

"And," I continue, "You can find some compromise. Things never seem quite as bad when you look at them with a clear head. It'll all seem better in a little. We'll work some way out of this. Even if you can't tell me, I'll help. In any way I can. You always have me Kor."

Kori hiccupped, "No, when I look at this with a 'clear head' it'll only seem worse. And I thought I had escaped it all!" And with that said, Kori let out another deep sob.

Kori began to breathe deeply in, like she was hyperventilating, "Oh my god," she cried, "Oh X'Hal what have I gotten myself into? Why me? Why me?" Each 'Why me'? was more pathetic than the last. It was heart wrenching. Especially coming from the girl I occasionally flirt with.

"Sh, Kori, calm down," I led the slightly (slightly, I hoped) hysterical Kori over to the couch and sat her down, hoping I was soothing in some way, "You can, um, change the TV to whatever you want while I got make you some tea, or whatever beverage you would prefer."

"I am making you uncomfortable, I shall, no, I'll leave," Kori said, standing up looking shamefaced as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

I push her back down with a somewhat gentle hand, "No Kori, you aren't going anywhere till you have had your, er, tea. And I'll go call Rachel. Tell her she's got to come back soon. Don't you worry about a thing."

Kori looks at me for a minute, and I'm afraid she's going to do something drastic, like run out the door. But no, instead, she jumps up and pulls me into a fierce hug.

"Thank you Richard," She whispers into my ear, and I immediately relax (damn her for that), "Thank you so much."

Of course, good things do not last, and before I can enjoy the feeling of Kori's breath against my ear (and more importantly, her very nicely shaped body pressed up against mine), Gar walks in. Good ole Gar, so reliable in the bad timing department.

"Hey, am I interrupting something?" he says with a large smile, and not just a large smile, but a large smirk.

To which I reply, "Go put on some pants."

To which Gar kindly gives me the finger, before, indeed turning around and heading back to my room to put pants on.

Kori gives a watery laugh (can laughs even be watery?), "So, I'll, er, be back in a minute." I tell her with a weak smile as I head toward the kitchen.

"Than I shall, ugh! One afternoon with my Grandmother and I'm already talking like that again! Let me rephrase that; Than I'll be waiting here for a minute," Kori laughs a little desperately, "It doesn't sound quite so good when you have a monologue first, does it?"

She looks so pitiful I don't even have the heart to tell her she met her Grandmother in the morning. So instead I give a little chuckle before high tailing it to the kitchen.

---

A minute and thirty three seconds later I'm back with a cup of tea in hands. And best of all, it's in Kori's favorite mug. My old favorite mug. Which only makes me happy for some odd reason. I almost fear I'm living up to this stalker role all too well.

"Here," I say handing it to her, "Rachel will be back in an hour, okay?"

Kori nods, "I cannot thank you enough," she says as she takes a sip of the tea, "That's very good tea Richard."

"Well, I always followed orders well," at her blank expression I add, "It was instant tea… I just followed the instructions…"

"Oh!" she giggles, "Very cute, Richard."

But I can tell it's an act.

Then Gar walks in. Again. See what I mean with the bad timing?

"Hey guys," he says with a wolfish smile in my direction, "How's it going?"

I offer a noncommittal shrug in response. Kori offers the top of her head, as she suddenly decides her cup of tea is fascinating. All of which doesn't satisfy Gar very much.

"So, I thought Rachel left, why are you still here Kori?" Gar says, his eyes shifting between the two of us. He's trying to play detective. He could never do it very well. He only got lies, while I, proudly, was always able to crack the case.

She takes a small sip of the tea, "I'm not."

"Um… yeah you are," Gar replies clearly wondering about her sanity.

"She means she left earlier this morning, then Rachel left, and then Kori came back… because she… forgot her bag…" I trail off hoping my excuse will hold up.

Gar eyes me suspiciously, "Is bag a code word for make out session?"

"No," I reply flatly, if only it was. Bag. Bag. Bag. And if only wishes came true…

"I simply need… Rachel… and her advice. So I'm waiting for her arrival," Kori replies tartly. No need to get so defensive Kori! Hypothetically kissing (or making out) _cannot _be that bad. With me. Especially in Kori's eyes.

"Oh…" Gar replies lamely looking extremely disappointed.

An awkward silence ensues.

And only fifteen minutes later (full of sipping, sighing, wistful glances, and rude gestures) Rachel walks in the front door.

"What the hell are you all doing?" Her voice cuts through the awkward silence like a recently sharpened sword- (not my best simile) as she juggles her various purchases.

Gar smiles and jumps up to take a few bags off her hand, like the true gentlemen he is. And no, bag is not a codeword for make out session.

She eyes him, "You've put on pants since I've last seen you."

"Yes, Rich insisted on it," Gar nods enthusiastically, "Didn't want me to take Kori's attention away from him in all my manliness."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" I call out to the two, but like normal, the two are so wrapped up in each other they don't notice a thing.

"You have yet to put on a shirt however," Rachel comments, her voice full of fake disdain. Ah, that explains that large smile on her face.

Gar gives her a huge grin, "Oh, I didn't want to keep you from the image on my lovely chest."

Rachel rolls her eyes and directs her gaze to the couch, "What the hell are you doing here Kori? And with tea in your hands? _My _tea?"

"Richard!" Kori cries in a somewhat joking tone, though it's the closest she's been to a somewhat cheerful mood all day. It's funny how the presence of your best friend can effect one so. If only Gar had that effect on me.

I wouldn't know, seeing as he's _always _around me. He sticks to me like a damn tic.

I shrugged, "Where else would I get tea? Oh come on Kori, it's not like I keep it secretly stocked."

"But the better question is; why is she drinking my tea?" Rachel asked, eying us both warily. She knows I don't pull the tea card unless all else is lost. And why else would I? Tea should not be used lightly.

"Obviously because Richard made her some. And though it probably tastes awful, Kori was always one who took manners to heart," Garfield comments with a smile.

And for some reason, Kori's face tenses slightly, "Yes… it was in my upbringing..." she trails off somewhat darkly.

Standing up suddenly, Kori places the mug of tea on the coffee table. Looking at me she says, "Thank you," then to Rachel she says, "Rachel I have the most… disturbing news. Please, let's go discuss it in your room."

"Does this have to do with that thing you had to go to this morning?" Rachel asks, dropping all of her bags on _my _lap. Yes, what a kind sister I have. To me she says, "Put those away."

Do I look like her goddamn servant. It's one thing to ask me, and not Gar, her love slave, and it's yet another to not even say please.

"Yes," Kori answers simply.

Rachel nods, "Well then, let's get to it." Those two are rather business-like about this whole matter. It's rather… odd.

And the two girls leave to discuss Kori's being a princess.

Gar shakes his head, "Girls and their secrets right?"

I shrug, "Not really."

Gar looks at me funny, before letting out his usual confused, "Huh?"

I roll my eyes, really, I just have to rub this in his face the teensiest bit, "I'll let you in on a little secret Gar; I know exactly what they're talking about."

"But you're not supposed to," he guesses with a smile.

I nod, glad I didn't have to explain the situation to him, "Right."

Gar chuckles a bit, and with a tinge of admiration in his voice comments, "You lucky son of a bitch."

And suddenly I hear a high pitched scream erupt from Rachel's room and I know this secret isn't just between me and Kori. Now Rachel's involved. And that can only spell one thing.


	8. Glittering Clouds Locust

Chapter Eight: Glittering Clouds (Locust)

_3429_

I am… I am… going to be Queen. And not something as simple as being the Queen of school or Prom. No, I'm going to be the Queen of an entire _country. _

Come on Kori, I'm sure there's an optimistic happy side to this…

_Royalty! _Grandmother must be kidding me. _Royalty!  
_

The whole thing I've- we've- my mother and I've been trying to avoid from the very beginning has come back to haunt this. I _cannot _believe this. And what choice do I have? To let my people suffer? Grandmother has cornered me in. And she knows it.

And suddenly, I am overcome with anger. Righteous fury at my Grandmother. Everything she stands for. Royalty. Tameran.

How could this have happened to _me_?

"Grandmother, when my Mother first had me, she made arrangements. She was assured that her daughter need not become next in line for the throne, less, she wanted to be. And I will assure _you _I have absolutely _no _desire to become Queen!" I told my Grandmother, my voice rising with each syllable spoken.

Grandmother rolled her eyes, and looked very put out- almost as if I were a screaming two year old, "Koriand'r if you'd just listen-"

I was near hysterics now. Everything I was sure I had escaped, was now cornering me, and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to be slightly hysterical now. In fact, I felt as if my sunny disposition had left me entirely, when I needed it most.

"Listen to what? You attempt to manipulate me! No I will _not _stand for it!" I cried out, hoping if I made enough of a scene, reached enough decibels, someone would come to see what the ruckus was about. And maybe they could arrest my Grandmother… or just _fix _this.

"It is rude to interrupt," Grandmother replied in a bored tone, "And perhaps if you had listened, you would have found you were rather wrong in your first impressions."

I felt my tears start to blind me, I felt like I was a young child, a pupil to my Grandmother's lessons all over again, "What? That this- this- this royalty isn't simply chains that bind one from a normal life? And that you would do nothing to keep me, every last And'r in the royal palace?"

Ignoring my accusations, Grandmothers answers flatly, "No. However, you need not become next in line for the throne, others shall indeed replace you. You only need to stay next in line for the throne to keep the And'r bloodline one that is royal."

"Are you saying, that the fall or rise of the house of And'r all depends on my decision of whether or not to become Queen?" I asked, rather incredulously. Like the entire future of Tameran is in the hands of a teenager. Puh-lease.

"In lesser terms, yes. And you will be empress, not Queen," Grandmother instructed me, narrowing her eyebrows, "But in order to be prepared- whether or not you shall accept this… challenge," she said, choosing her words carefully, "You must be prepared. And to do so, you shall meet me accordingly everyday after school in my suite, as soon as school lets out."

I crossed my arms, and seething, turned away from her, "Why will I need to be properly trained to deny the throne?"

I see a ghost of a smile on my Grandmother's face, "Oh yes, well, you never know you might accept it…" she trails off at the murderous look on my face, "Needless, you will have to come out at a ball, and then make a speech. Either way, whether princess- for you shall always be a princess-" she added hastily when I opened my mouth to speak, "Or soon to be Empress you shall need to be…" Grandmother trailed off tastefully, searching for the right word, "Proper."

I knew she had me, and she knew it too. But, I did not feel like spending another moment in the destructive company of my Grandmother. So, I pushed myself up from the seat and told her hotly, "So I will see you tomorrow Grandmother dear!"

And with proper good-byes said and done I ran out of the café. I ran. And I ran. And I ran. I ran all the way to somewhere safe. Somewhere away from prying eyes of family, friends, and the occasional enemy. I ran to the park.

Now you might say, why didn't I run to a friend- to home- to reassuring arms? I couldn't stand to talk about this with anyone else until I first talked about it with myself.

So I ran to the park (only a mere two and half blocks away), and soon found myself sitting on a deserted bench underneath a shady tree, my head in my hands, sobbing.

_What can I say? How can I-? What should I do? How can she-? What the _hell_ should I do? _

These are the questions that plague my mind as I sat sobbing on the cold, hard bench for ten minutes. And I must say, it was a very therapeutic experience.

And after I sat sobbing on that bench, for ten minutes, I realized I was an idiot. I had to tell someone. I know I can't keep this to myself. It would only lead to disaster.

But who should I tell first? Jen? My Mom? Richard? Rachel?

Ok, that one was obvious, I have to tell my best friend. I mean, she does already know that I'm royalty, and thus, shall make the whole explanation thing much easier. Plus, she's my best friend, I owe her this honor. She'd tell me.

And then, guilt sets it, what kind of best friend am I? Running to the park, instead of to the comforting arms of my best friend? Then again- it was a rather insane thing to do. Why did I think I needed to sit by myself before I told anyone?

Resisting the urge to smack myself, I decided I'll tell her, and the two of us, we'll come up with a plan. Like we always do, we'll work it out together. I know we will. We always do. And everything will end up nice and dandy. It always does.

And with at least that much of a plan ahead of me, I stand up, wipe the tears (and snot, ugh, gross) from my face, and prepare to run all the way to Rachel's house, five blocks away. I _do _owe her, after all.

Panting, and red faced (if not from the running, most certainly from the tears) I ring the doorbell impatiently. If this was not the sole purpose for a best friend's creation, then I don't know what was.

I mean, everyone has slight deterrents (like running to cry on a park bench) but they _still _do their best friend duty, they just had, you know, a slight delay.

But Rachel isn't the one who greets me at the door. She isn't the one whose arms I fling myself into. No, this just goes to show you the kind of day I'm having, its Richard who answers the doors.

Richard's soft and sexy voiced, blended with kindness, understanding, and confusion, says, "Kori…"

Attempting to restrain the urge to through myself into his arms (but then I'd have to worry about leaking snot on his nice shirt. I mean, all his shirts are nice, but this is one of my favorites) I say the thing that comes first to my mind, the thing I need the most, "Is Rachel here?"

Richard kind of hesitates with his answer, "No, but she'll be back…"

But I cut him off, with a wail of, "Oh Richard!" And then I lose all sanity.

I don't even think about how awful I must look from crying. Or how disheveled my hair is from running all the way. Or even how great Richard smells (he has this yummy manly smell I _cannot _get enough of), even though the smell is very comforting.

Instead, I just throw myself into his arms, and I start bawling all over again at the unfairness of life. And within the moment my torso makes contact with his, I can feel Richard wrap his nice, strong arms around me.

That helps, a little. See, silver lining? How many times would I get to throw myself into Richard's arms- if not for this disaster? Hm?

There's the happy, optimistic Kori. And I was beginning to worry I'd have to send out a search party!

Richard closes the door, with his arms still securely wrapped around me, and I pray he won't let go till Rachel gets back. He attempts to comfort me, even though, he's not really sure _what _he's supposed to be comforting me for, he's doing I fine job. His voice is nice and soothing, and he could be calling me every bad name in the book and I wouldn't care if he said it in that tone, "Kori, it'll be fine. Whatever it is, I'm sure you can live up to it."

"That's just it!" I sob, he doesn't know how close he's hit home, and I can't let him know, "I cannot," it's so frustrating, I could just scream, and I do, but I let Richard's chest muffle the shriek, "I _can't _tell anyone! Not anyone at t'all! And then I have to… oh, Richard, it's going to be horrible!"

That's when he starts rubbing my back, and it feels so good, I almost forget all about my problem, "Kori, if there's _anyone _who can… deal with this thing, it's you. You can do it."

"Richard you don't understand! It's not in my hands. I can't choose, I can't deal, I just… and you see, I can't even tell you what it is! And so, you have to guess and hope what you're saying and doing is the right thing and _it isn't fair! _Not to you. Not to me. Not to my brother. Not to my sister. Not to the people of… the people. Not to Rachel. Not to my Mom. It's just, it's not fair," I mean, of course I'm exaggerating a little bit, but I'm sure I got the gist of my rant out; it's not fair. And the worst part is? I can't do anything put go along with it. When the realization hits me, I begin to weep, openly, all on my favorite shirt of my crush.

"Kori, listen to me. Even if you can't tell me, I'm guessing you can tell Rachel, or else you wouldn't be here," oh, Richard, he's always so… logical… why can't I be logical? No, no, where's the happy Kori? Oh god, Richard probably thinks I'm ignoring him, so I make a little noise, about all I can muster at the moment, to let him know I'm listening, "And if anyone can help you its Rachel. You and Rachel and your Mom, the three brightest gals I know. If you can't come up with some kind of solution, well then, there's no hope for any of us.

"And," he continues, he's voice logical, even, and I know that this is exactly why I came here, for sound, comforting reason, "You can find some compromise. Things never seem quite as bad when you look at them with a clear head. It'll all seem better in a little. We'll work some way out of this. Even if you can't tell me, I'll help. In any way I can. You always have me Kor."

At the end of his touching speech; I hiccup. What is wrong with me? He's being so nice… and I'm being so… not nice, "No, when I look at this with a 'clear head' it'll only seem worse. And I thought I had escaped it all!" _Oh, god, where the hell is optimistic Kori?_ I think as I let out another sob.

Well, I guess everyone needs some character building conflict. And, well, everyone needs a good cry once in a while. And Richard's making sense. Yes, yes, if anyone can solve this problem it's me and Rachel and my Mom. I can get through this, I can do it. YES! YES I CAN!

Okay, now there's a difference between a healthy bout of happiness and thinking your Thomas the Engine.

I decided I should concentrate on less pressing matters, like breathing, in and out, at a normal pace, "Oh my god," I moan, "Oh X'Hal what have I gotten myself into? Why me? Why me?" Each 'Why me'? was more pathetic than the last.

"Sh, Kori, calm down," he said, guiding me over to the couch with his strong grip, "You can, um, change the TV to whatever you want while I got make you some tea, or whatever beverage you would prefer."

"I am making you uncomfortable, I shall, no, I'll leave," I said, I felt so bad about pouring all my frustrations out on him. But it needed to be done… and he was the one who answered the door… tch, yeah _right _Kori.

He pushed me back down to the couch, "No Kori, you aren't going anywhere till you have had your, er, tea. And I'll go call Rachel. Tell her she's got to come back soon. Don't you worry about a thing."

I look up at him, he's too good. Just too good. And before I do anything too drastic, I pull him into a hug. I want him to know I appreciate it. All he's done.

"Thank you Richard," I whisper to him gently, hoping to show him I haven't lost all sanity, "Thank you so much."

And I'm not sure whether to be happy or sad when Gar walks in. On one hand, he saved me from doing something drastic, and on the other hand… he saved me from doing a romantic drastic thing to Richard.

"Hey, am I interrupting something?" Gar says, and I can't help but giggle a little, because he's got this oversized smirk on his face, and he looks every bit the jokester he is.

Richard replies with a roll of his eyes, "Go put on some pants."

I giggle slightly more at their exchange, as Gar gives Richard the finger, but does, indeed proceed to head back down the hallway he came. I'm guessing to put on some pants.

Richard turns to me, and the joking, sarcastic manner in which he held himself with Gar vanishes, and is instead replaced with a concerned and nervous manner, "So, I'll, er, be back in a minute." And I have to hold in the giggle, he is just _too _cute. And with that said, he slowly backs away and into the kitchen.

I call after him, "Than I shall, ugh!" I will _not _be starting this again, but I suppose old habits die hard, "One afternoon with my Grandmother and I'm already talking like that again! Let me rephrase that; Than I'll be waiting here for a minute," And I force myself to laugh, trying really hard to make Richard think I'm not a crazy ole coot, "It doesn't sound quite so good when you have a monologue first, does it?"

And I'm sure I succeeded because Richard exited the room chuckling, and that is not typical behavior of one who has just found out his sister's best friend is a crazy ole coot.

---

Only about a minute later Richard returns with a steaming mug of tea. And it's just a picture.

And I noticed he gave it to me in the mug he used to use all the time. It's this cute little one with cartoon super-heroes on it. I always make a grab for it if Richard already hasn't, which, he normally has. Which is just _too _cute for words.

"Here," he says softly, handing me the mug gently, everything about him is careful, and calm, "Rachel will be back in an hour, okay?"

I nod, and take a sip of tea, it's not as good as Rachel's but, Richard made it, so it's my absolute fav now, "I cannot thank you enough. That's very good tea Richard."

"Well, I always followed orders well," I stare at him for a moment in confusion, and Richard nervously fills me in on his humor, "It was instant tea… I just followed the instructions…"

"Oh!" I giggle, feeling like a dumb blonde, but not wanting Richard to think I'm stupid and don't get his 'intellectual' jokes, "Very cute, Richard."

I finish my laughter and tea just as Gar walks into the room.

"Hey guys," he says and just with his presence I can feel the whole room lighten, "How's it going?"

Richard shrugs. Well, if he isn't going to explain I most certainly am not going to blab my… interesting predicament to the nosiest creature on this world. I instead, glance down at my empty cup of tea, feeling slightly guilty at not telling Gar _anything. _But he'll find out in time, they always do. Except this time, I'm going to tell them first.

"So, I thought Rachel left, why are you still here Kori?" Gar stares at me with a scrutinizing glance. Oh, I don't need any more mind games now! But… at the same time, this could be rather amusing.

Unsure of how this will go, I hesitantly take a 'sip' of my tea (or lack there of) before replying, "I'm not."

"Um… yeah you are," Gar looks at Richard from the corner of his eyes, and I think he's a little confused.

"She means she left earlier this morning, then Rachel left, and then Kori came back… because she… forgot her bag…" Richard trails off. Isn't he a sweetheart? He can tell I don't want to talk about it so he invents excuses for me! If I didn't love him already…

Gar's not going to let us go off without a few more questions, "Is bag a code word for make out session?"

See, I knew this could turn out to be amusing!

"No," Richard turns slightly red, but his voice is firm. And I'm wondering if he might have been thinking the same exact thing… or at least hoping for it (like me!)

I decide to take pity, and give Gar the answers he's been searching so hard for, "I simply need… Rachel… and her advice. So I'm waiting for her arrival."

"Oh…" Gar says, happy to have finally come to the end of his mystery. And I'm almost sure I heard him mutter, "Case closed." But, that could just be the tea talking.

The three of us proceed to sit in a comfortable silence, while we wait for Rachel's return. All for varying reasons

Me, to get the advice I search for.

Richard, to get me out of his hands.

Gar, to spy the girl he's so infatuated with.

We needn't wait long, within ten minutes, Rachel walks through the doors. And her entire presence brings a calming effect to the room.

And since the first time I've been out of Richard's arms I feel truly comforted. Everything _will _be alright. And me and Thomas the Engine, we _are _similar. But who cares? Everyone _loves _Thomas the Engine. Suddenly, my happy, optimistic, glass is half-full Kori-ness returns- just with the presence of my best friend.

And I know, no matter how bad things get, I'll always have a true best friend, who'll be by my side no matter what.

"What the hell are you all doing?" Rachel says, her entire voice just soothing us all.

Gar starts smiling largely at Rachel, and tries to impress her with his kindness by grabbing a few of her bags. Well, I certainly didn't see this gentlemen like side of him ten minutes ago when he was playing detective.

As he's taking her bags, she gives him the once-over, "You've put on pants since I've last seen you."

"Yes, Rich insisted on it," Gar nods, trying so hard to get on her good side, it's cute, "Didn't want me to take Kori's attention away from him in all my manliness."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" Richard calls out to them, but it's all in good mirth. And just being with my friends, it's like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders.

"You have yet to put on a shirt however," Rachel says, trying not to stare too much. I would laugh, if my eyes didn't hurt from crying so much.

An impish grin makes it's way onto his face, "Oh, I didn't want to keep you from the image on my lovely chest."

Rolling her eyes (I keep telling her if she does it that much, her eyes are going to get stuck like that) Rachel finally spots me. But it's not a happy union, she's more indignant, "What the hell are you doing here Kori? And with tea in your hands? _My _tea?"

"Richard!" I glare at him, how could he have purposefully made me _Rachel's _tea. He knows this is forbidden. And a sin.

Richard didn't seem too disturbed, "Where else would I get tea? Oh come on Kori, it's not like I keep it secretly stocked."

"But the better question is; why is she drinking my tea?" Rachel asked, suspiciously looking at us both, in a manner that reminds me so much of Gar I wonder why those two have yet to get together.

"Obviously because Richard made her some. And though it probably tastes awful, Kori was always one who took manners to heart," Gar comments off to the side, as he's putting away Rachel's various purchases.

And that reminds me… "Yes… it was in my upbringing..." I leave the ending hanging open hoping Rachel will realize my hint.

I see slight realization draw across Rachel's face as I stand up. I turn to Richard and mutter a quick, "Thank you," but I have more pressing matters, I turn to Rachel, "Rachel I have the most… disturbing news. Please, let's go discuss it in your room."

"Does this have to do with that thing you had to go to this morning?" Rachel asks, looking more kind and understand then ever. In fact, she drops everything- on Richard's lap no less, she hurries to follow me, murmuring to Richard, "Put those away."

Come on Rachel, I need you now, and I need you quickly, "Yes."

Rachel nods, and briskly says, "Well then, let's get to it."

We rush to Rachel's room, and the moment we're safely within the confines of her room, I spill it all, quickly, in a rush.

"Rachel, I have to become Empress!"

Rachel does the natural, sane thing anyone else would do in her place. She lets out a shriek. A high pitched screech, and the proceeds to demand I 'spill, everything'.

And so I do. And together, the two of us spend hours discussing everything I'll have to do. That, and well, what a bitch my Grandmother is.


End file.
